


Day Off

by stevierosebudds (vulcantastic)



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Fluff, Gen, M/M, Platonic Cuddling, Platonic Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:40:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25195585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vulcantastic/pseuds/stevierosebudds
Summary: Stevie had a pretty bad work week, and it's looking to be a pretty bad day off, too. That is until her best friend inadvertently makes it a little bit better.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer & Stevie Budd & David Rose, Patrick Brewer/David Rose, Stevie Budd & David Rose
Comments: 30
Kudos: 220





	Day Off

**Author's Note:**

> I just love platonic OT3s. Nobody really needed this, but I did, so here it is in the universe. It's entirely unedited/unbeta'd; just wanted to put something positive out there. Enjoy!

Stevie awoke and decided that this was going to be a really, really shitty day off. Also, she was pretty sure she was still a little drunk.

Which initially didn’t seem possible, as her adventure at The Wobbly Elm last night had wrapped up—she lifted her head slowly to squint at the watch on her wrist— _nine_ hours ago.

Except she’d had several shots and several beers and several more shots and had evidently found her way to David and Patrick’s couch, a blanket she’d kicked in her sleep in a bunch at her feet. She glanced down at herself and realized she was wearing one of Patrick’s old stretched-out tees. Bless him.

Honestly, she couldn’t recall how she got here. What she could remember, though, was stepping off her connecting flight home yesterday after an embarrassing set of pitch meetings with Mr. Rose in Los Angeles. Stevie knew she was getting better at this stuff. She _knew_ it. She felt it, and Mr. Rose had told her so many times.

But that last meeting day hadn’t gone so well. Mr. Rose had been forced to pick up a lot of her slack while Stevie had stammered and silently begged her mouth to catch up with her brain. She’d been _off_ her game _._ And despite Mr. Rose’s patient reassurances afterwards, there was no way to be sure that wouldn’t cost the Rosebud Motel Group a potential new partnership.

Perhaps it had been the long travel day, and the lingering anxiety of having been mentally present for an entire week of meetings and overseeing motel planning. But Stevie, upon walking into her dark apartment yesterday afternoon, simply could not face the idea of being alone with her thoughts.

Not when she had a voice in her head drumming out _You’re not good enough_ like the chorus to a song, over and over again.

So she’d unpacked, showered, got herself settled, and demanded David and Patrick meet her for drinks and pool, claiming the excuse that they all had the following day off and there was no reason _not_ to go unless the two of them had officially become an old married couple, and _Are you part of an old married couple, David? I thought not._

And then the evening had sort of … happened. And now she was here, and not wearing pants. And her head fucking _hurt_ but was also still spinning. _You’re doing great._

She gingerly sat up, running a hand through her matted hair before padding to the hall bathroom and turning on the faucet. After taking a moment to register the impressive bags under her eyes, she fumbled for the spare toothbrush she had brought over for emergencies exactly like this one. If you didn’t have a designated toothbrush at your best friend’s house, were you even best friends?

Once she’d freshened up a bit, she listened for any signs of life. The first floor seemed to be void of human activity, but it was nearly 10am, and even though David liked to sleep in, Patrick was usually up and about by now, the annoying early bird he was. He was bound to be somewhere.

Maybe she could convince him to give her a ride home in her fragile, fragile state.

So she trudged up the stairs on a mission, finding the door to their bedroom cracked open.

Stevie listened for a beat in order to rule out any weird sex noises that she did _not_ want to encounter and, hearing nothing but the peaceful morning quiet, poked her head through the door.

David was fully dressed in a cozy sweater and jeans, sitting lightly atop the neatly made bed, ankles crossed. He scrolled through his laptop with one hand and sipped a coffee with the other.

He looked up at the sound of the creaking door, gave her a pointed once-over that Stevie could practically _hear_ , and said, “Oh, you’re alive.” And then, through a smirk, “You look _so_ good.”

“Fuck you.” Stevie rubbed her eyes, stepping fully into the room. “Why didn’t I go home last night?”

David placed his cup on the bedside table and shut his laptop. “You wanted to have a _sleepover_.” Air quotes. “And Patrick and I were too tired to argue with you.”

“Ugh.” Stevie ran a hand over her face, too exhausted to even contemplate being embarrassed. Just disappointed. She looked around briefly. “Where is the doting husband?”

“He went to get bagels.”

Stevie flopped down on the bed, biting down a smile at David’s horror as she ruined Patrick’s meticulously made side. “If he doesn’t bring back an Everything, I’m suing.”

David narrowed his eyes. “Very brave of you to assume that the Everything isn’t for _me._ ”

“I’ll fight you for it, David.” Stevie lifted a closed fist weakly, realizing all of a sudden just how heavy her limbs felt.

“Mhm. I bet.” David didn’t bother to hide his lopsided grin now, and Stevie hated that she liked seeing him smile even when she knew it was at her expense. “You’re raring to go. Look at you!”

Sure, Stevie liked his smile, but his attitude was a lot to be desired. So she promptly buried her face into the decorative pillow propped up against the headboard and groaned.

Sure enough: “You haven’t washed your face, I assume—”

“My face is fine just the way it is,” she muttered into the very soft fabric, and holy shit, she didn’t even want to know how expensive this quilt set was. “Even when it’s all red and splotchy and Mr. Rose looks at me like I’m actively having a stroke and there’s nothing he can do about it.”

“God.” She heard David huff theatrically beside her. “Are you _still_ having a post-LA crisis?”

 _What_. Stevie sat up abruptly, which gave her the mother of all head rushes. “I _told_ you about that?” she yelped.

“Yeah. Several times.” David tilted his head to the side thoughtfully. “Once, you actually did a reenactment where you lifted a pool cue and pretended to point at a smart board with it. And then we almost got kicked out.” He shrugged. “But my husband is very charming, so.”

Stevie slid down, down, down until she was flat on her back on the mattress, throwing an arm over her eyes. “Fuuuuck.”

“Stevie.” By the sound of his voice, David had reached matter-of-fact-patronizing mode, Stevie’s least favorite David Evolution. “Everyone fucks up at work. Even _me_ , if you can believe it.”

“Are you kidding?” She lifted her forearm slightly to make sure he could see her half-lidded glare. “ _Especially_ you. When was the last time you showed up at the store before 11am?”

David turned to pick up his coffee cup again. “I don’t find your question pertinent to this discussion. Anyway, stop freaking out. You’re fine.”

 _Of course_ everyone fucked up at work. But this was Stevie’s chance at making something bigger of herself, and she couldn’t help but feel that she was blowing it. And she didn’t want to be lectured right now.

“David.” Stevie propped herself up on an elbow, peering up at him and blinking slowly, hoping she was giving off the vibe of a really sad woodland creature. “My head hurts.”

David quirked a brow, clearly unaffected by her attempt at garnering sympathy, and retorted, “I specifically told you not to have that last jagerbomb, but what do I know?”

Of course he was right, but Stevie didn’t remember him actually telling her that last night anyway, so it was debatable as to whether he’d actually said it in the first place.

And Stevie _didn’t want a lecture._ She wanted … she _wanted_ …

Maybe it was her half-drunk brain talking, but when she scooted over and drew her knees up and dropped her head to David’s shoulder, she realized _this_ was exactly what she wanted.

“Oh. This is happening now? Okay.” Stevie listened as David’s voice went from vaguely annoyed to just a touch soft, almost imperceptibly so.

And if David went to drape his arm around her shoulders without a moment’s hesitation, well, she wasn’t about to say anything if he didn’t.

But Stevie _also_ wasn’t about to let the silence go for too long. She tilted her head up slightly and made a playful swipe at his coffee cup, prompting him to shriek, “Ew! Get away from my coffee!”

“But I _need_ it,” she whined, because it just felt good to _whine_ and _sit in this_ and make David give her a hug, however reluctant it was.

“Oh my god _._ You’re a greasy rodent,” he said, but there was no malice in it, and she grinned triumphantly as he practically shoved the coffee cup in her face. “Here. There’s, like, two sips left anyway, and now I have to make another one for myself, so. Good job.”

Satisfied, Stevie cradled the mug in her hands and then proceeded to smush her face into David’s very soft, very expensive sweater. “I dn’wbe fk’up,” she grumbled.

“Mm.” She felt David pat her shoulder a couple of times. “You’re gonna have to try that one more time for me. Also, if you get any of your raccoon makeup on my sweater you’re paying for dry cleaning.”

She ignored him and repeated, “ _I don’t wanna be a fuck-up,_ ” the reality of the fear hanging in the air for a few seconds.

“ _Ugh_. Stevie.” However irritable his tone, the rumble of David’s voice was honestly pretty soothing. “First of all, I’m pretty sure my dad likes you better than me, so.”

She looked up. “I mean, I know _that_ ,” she replied, reveling in his expression of utter betrayal. “But I just don’t want to screw this up. It’s only been a few months.”

David sighed as if her plight was an inconvenience. “You do recall it was your idea to get this whole thing off the ground, right? The franchising?”

Stevie let her head drop back to his shoulder, drinking the lukewarm coffee. “Yeah,” she admitted, a little sheepish despite herself.

“Yeah. That wasn’t my dad. That was you. And the person holding down the fort _here_ is you.” Then she heard him say, quieter: “Everyone has off days. But you’re good at what you do.”

Stevie bit the inside of her lip, letting the statement sit there for a few seconds. Then, without looking at him, she asked, very seriously: “What was that, David?”

She could practically feel him rolling his eyes. “Don’t make me say it again.”

“Fine.” Stevie made a show of snuggling in just a bit closer. She was going to milk this moment for all its worth. “But if you wanted to tell me how smart and capable I am, I definitely wouldn’t object.”

“Mkay, you’re fishing for compliments now,” David snapped, “And I will _not_ engage. Shut up and drink the coffee you pried from my hands.”

“I finished it already. And you _gave it_ to me, David.”

He said, “You’re dehydrated; you’re delusional,” and then she felt him rest his chin atop her head, and for a while, they remained just like that.

And Stevie’s head was hurting just a little less now, and her thoughts began to err a little less on the side of self-sabotage, and maybe this really had been exactly what she needed. A hug from her best friend with a side of validation.

She found herself starting to doze off a little bit after a couple of minutes, and by the sound of his breathing, she thought David might be, too.

An indeterminable amount of time later, her eyes popped open at the sound of a fond voice:

“This is pretty freakin’ adorable. Can I take a picture?”

Patrick was standing in the doorway with his hands on his hips, smiling softly.

David’s voice was sickeningly sweet as he replied, “Sure, if you want it to be the last thing you ever do, thanks so much.” Stevie let out a one-syllable laugh as David stretched the arm that was free from her entire body weight and inquired, “Bagels?”

“In the kitchen. I gotta be honest, though.” Patrick crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head. “I’m feeling pretty left out right now.”

Well. That wouldn’t do. If Stevie was finally starting to feel better, she had to spread the wealth.

She grinned and patted the space behind her. “I mean, there’s a simple solution to that.”

She looked up at David just in time to see his eyes widen, voice almost pleading. “Patrick. I swear to god. The _entire_ left side of my body is numb—”

But Patrick was already kicking off his shoes, and Stevie stifled a laugh as he practically launched himself at the two of them, taking up the remaining space on the bed on Stevie's other side. And there they were, squished together, Patrick at a strange yet convenient enough angle to kiss the inside of David’s arm. God, they were gross.

But Stevie was _literally_ in the middle, limbs tangled with the both of them, so if she were being honest, she was pretty fucking gross too.

Patrick slung his arm over her waist, and she heard the thick tone of sympathy in his voice. “How you feeling?”

She craned her neck a little to look at him. “Wow. Do I really look _that_ awful?”

“No,” he said carefully, at the same time David deadpanned, “Yes.”

Stevie ignored David and reached back to pat Patrick’s leg. “Did you get me an Everything bagel?”

“I got two.”

Stevie turned back to look him dead in the eyes with as much sincerity as she could muster. “If you weren’t already married I’d court the _shit_ out of you.”

He wiggled his eyebrows. “Shucks. I’m very taken, though. And gay.”

“I _cannot_ believe the two of you,” David all but yelled, which wasn’t great for Stevie’s headache but did absolute wonders for her mood in general. “This is _forced cuddling._ And I am being _actively deprived_ of carbohydrates after a night of drinking.”

Patrick reached over Stevie to squeeze David’s knee. “Ten more minutes.”

“Absolutely not. _Two._ ”

Stevie looked up at him, going for the woodland creature expression again. “Five?”

She watched as David’s gaze flickered between her face and his husband’s, eyes a little shiny, the corners of his mouth threatening to twitch upward. “Fine. Five.” He huffed, settling back against the pillow. “Stevie, your back is so fucking _bony_ , Jesus.” He tilted his head forward a little to glare at Patrick. “And _you’re_ remaking the bed after this.”

Patrick sat up a bit against the headboard, and Stevie felt him reach behind her to brush his fingers against the nape of David’s neck. “Aw, David. I love you too, and I _also_ cherish this nice day off with you and our spectacularly hungover friend Stevie.”

David muttered, “Whatever,” but there was an unmistakable hint of affection there, and Stevie thought David _must_ realize he was with the only two people in the world who’d pick up on it.

Just like she knew she was with the only two people in the world who could make her feel this safe. This loved. With vague insults, cold coffee, and bagels.

After a few beats of comfortable silence, David’s voice rang through the room again. “… Did you get the—”

“Scallion cream cheese,” Patrick finished for him. “In the fridge.”

“Thank _fuck_ ,” Stevie practically moaned as David nodded fervently, evidently in deep agreement with her sentiment. “That stuff is like crack.”

Patrick yawned, sitting up a little. “Okay, okay. Stevie, should we placate David and make moves?”

Stevie was about to reluctantly signal her consent when David cleared his throat.

“It’s.” She felt his upper body move a bit in a small shrug. “It’s fine. We have a few more minutes.”

Stevie peered back at Patrick, who gave her a knowing look, because they were the only two people in the world to understand the complex inner workings of David Rose’s mind. A badge Stevie liked to think they each wore with pride.

They settled back into their original positions, Patrick evidently deciding to sort of rest his chin on Stevie’s shoulder, which she was okay with, because if she got to use his husband as a pillow she had to make some concessions.

She looked up at David as he pretended to study the details of the bedroom ceiling, and said, “David, your cologne is crazy strong today.”

David looked down at her with disdain, and Patrick piped up behind her, “Isn’t it? I told him that this morning. He wasn’t having it.”

“This is harassment,” David said flatly, but he traced a few small circles on Stevie’s shoulder. “ _Harassment_.”

Stevie smiled and closed her eyes.

Yeah. This was a pretty good day off.


End file.
